


If You Want Blood (You've Got It)

by greenkangaroo



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, one shots, short fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:12:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 13,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8285431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenkangaroo/pseuds/greenkangaroo
Summary: A series of oneshots featuring Akimichi Chouji, in a similar vein as my Hobbit fic Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap). Many of these pieces have appeared in their raw state on my tumblr. While these shorts all share Chouji in common, unless otherwise noted they are not connected.





	1. Juggernaut

Shikaku and Inoichi were both used to riding on Choza’s shoulders. 

When they were younger- when there was still a war to win- it was efficient, on the wider battlefields. Shikaku could survey the placements of their people and the enemy, Inoichi could target pockets where his particular jutsus would cause the most havok. Choza’s large shadow was perfect for Shikaku’s more ambitious techniques, and Inoichi could easily snipe enemies with well-timed kunai. 

There was something else, too, something hard to explain, and since none of them were any good at ‘that stuff’, they didn’t bother, just informed their sons and daughter that as the next Ino-Shika-Cho, Akimichi shoulder-riding was something they needed to master. 

They warned their children it would take practice. Chouji would have to develop a hyper-acute awareness of his body, Shikamaru would have to learn how to anchor his shadow, Ino would have to perfect her balance. 

“But it’s hard.” Ino complained to her father. 

“But it’s work.” Shikamaru muttered.

“But what if I fail?” Chouji asked Choza. 

“Try again.” They said. 

It took years. Chouji almost refused on principle, because falling from a cliff or a tree was bad enough but when he dumped Ino from a height equal to the Hokage Monument, only landing on his resized and very durable body saved her many broken bones. 

“We can’t,” Chouji said, and Ino- brushing herself off, shaking- said, “We will.”

When Shikamaru ran out of chakra mid-climb and nearly broke his neck Ino said, tearfully, “We shouldn’t.” 

Chouji replied, “We have to.” 

When Chouji overextended himself, his mass disappearing in a puff of smoke and both teammates swung him into the nearest tree for safety, he said, “I don’t know.” 

To which Shikamaru replied, “I do.” 

Eventually they got the hang of it. Ino learned how to balance, Shikamaru how to anchor, and Chouji could snatch a butterfly from midair with a hand the size of a studio apartment, the insect unharmed. 

And then. 

Then. 

Shikamaru stood on Chouji’s right shoulder, Ino his left. 

Below them the battlefield their parents had always hoped they would never see looked like a child’s playset. To Shikamaru their forces were ants marching in time, patterns indecipherable from the ground coming up as clear as a cool autumn sky from a vantage point so high. Ino could sense the flares of chakra, enemy and friend. 

Chouji strode fearlessly forward. There were attempts to stop him, of course- weapons and jutsus galore. A few more intrepid ninja tried to climb Chouji’s legs only to meet Ino’s poisoned senbon and Shikamaru’s strangling shadow. 

Heedless of the bodies that dropped in his wake Chouji walked on, a breathing juggernaut.

Ino-Shika-Cho could taste the undefined thing that their fathers had passed on. It wasn’t real invincibility, no, but even the illusion of it made them giddy. They felt like genin again, like Asuma was alive and summer never ended and everything was perfect. 

“Hey Chouji.” Ino said, and she pointed to the nearest nest, where the supplies were stored and the shuriken replenished. “Let’s stomp that one.” 

Chouji grinned, and they grinned back.


	2. Plate Up

Poison was always a tricky weapon. Only a few ninja in Konoha used it outside of mission parameters. Its success relied as much on luck as on other factors like timing and application. All it took was one thing going wrong- someone coming in too early, plates being switched, a regularly scheduled guard rotation changing half a second too late- and everything went straight to hell.

To her credit, and to the credit of her clan, Akimichi Sakuya had twenty five successful poisonings on her official missions record when she retired. 

Chouji, six years old, then, didn't know this. All Chouji knew about Auntie Sakuya was that she was the tallest woman he had ever seen. When his father took him to her, she looked down at him from what seemed like a hundred miles above and said, “With luck you’re not as hopeless as Choza.” Then she sat him down at a long, low table filled with vials, bowls, and packets and added, “but I doubt it.”

Sakuya taught Chouji about ingredients and the proper mixing and measuring techniques. She taught him to mask any flavor, how to detect any anomaly. He learned the crucial difference between milligrams of powder. Dusts, pastes, disguised saffron threads there were just so _many_ ways to kill a man. 

Aunt Sakuya took Chouji into the Nara forest on days both sunshiny and rainy, showed him what could be eaten, what shouldn’t under any circumstances be eaten, and what would do in a pinch if you didn’t mind your guts hating you for a little while afterwards. There were ways to speed poisoning, ways to slow it. 

Chouji figured, when he was twelve and not yet dead or banned from Auntie’s workroom, that he was probably not as hopeless as his father.

After he passed his chunin exam, for his official graduation, Chouji had to make a meal for his Aunt.

He worked diligently in a kitchen kept apart from the rest of the compound, steaming dumplings and cooking rice, frying meat and boiling vegetables.

When she put her chopsticks down at the end and said, with a touch of awe and more than a touch of irritation, “How many times dead should I be?” Chouji knew he had learned his lessons well.

“Seven,” he said to his Aunt, and took a refreshing sip of the very deadly sake he'd happily brought home from Suna, infused with the venom of a scorpion’s tail.


	3. In the Company of Cats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the response to the prompt 'Chouji gets a cat'.

After Chouji quietly removed himself from the family Compound during a lull in The Disagreement, he got a cat.

Well, to say he ‘got’ a cat was a misnomer, a simple misleading tactic in the ninja book of conversation. Chouji did not seek out a cat. He didn’t go to a shelter or a pet store or a breeder. He was simply walking home in the rain when he nearly tripped over the poor thing.

It was barely old enough to be away from its mother, eyes swollen shut. Hana Inuzuka told him, though her specialty was dogs, that the animal would need careful attention and even then, maybe he wouldn’t make it.

Chouji held the trembling ball of fur, something golden and striped once it had a warm bath, and remembered another rainy day.

Chouji asked for and received instructions on how to care for a very small kitten, and he brought him home.

When Ino asked him the next day how he was, in a thinly veiled attempt to gather information for her father to then convey to Choza (and proving her friendship by thinly veiling it, allowing him to choose what he passed on) Chouji said, “I got a cat.”

And that was that.

Nervous days turned to weeks. The kitten grew, and had eyes nearly the same color as his fur, tawny and golden. Chouji didn’t name the cat, simply stroked his head and gave him his food and listened to his purring rumble in the dark. 

Meimei’s youngest grandchild called the cat Kiro, and it stuck.

Kiro spent plenty of time outside, but always returned in the evening. If Chouji was home, Kiro slept curled up by his head, one paw resting lightly in his hair. The housewives and homemakers of the apartment building, once concerned about a young ninja from a rich family and their paper-thin walls, fed Kiro table scraps when he brought them the corpses of mice.

“Stop that,” Chouji said, “or you’ll make him as fat as me!” But he never meant it and they never did.

In the fall, when the scraggly maple outside their courtyard began to change its colors, everyone in the building gathered for hotpot. Chouji added things when the old women weren’t looking, ducked their soup ladles, kissed their cheeks. Kiro purred on his favorite rock and ignored the chickens that old Akashi kept around.

Shikamaru asked Chouji how he was doing, and he said, “Kiro’s getting big.”

When Chouji came in late, his neighbors knew it was because of two things- either he could not sleep, or he had just returned from a mission.

Kiro waited on the top step and when the large man looked down on him with empty eyes he meowed and fussed until he was finally picked up, and could snuggle against a big shoulder regardless of what gore might still be caked on it.

Chouji had perfected the art of crying silently as a child, long before he entered the Academy, before even meeting Shikamaru. Sometimes he laid on his side in his bedroom and bit down every noise he wanted to make, eating it like he ate everything else.

Kiro would curl up under his chin and Chouji would press his face into the cat’s golden fur until he could stop the shaking.

When Chouji came home to Shikamaru and Ino sitting on his porch, with Kiro draped across Shikamaru’s lap, he knew he couldn’t keep running.

“Your mother is miserable.” Ino said, and Chouji said, “I know.”

“So’s your dad.” Shikamaru added, and Chouji said, “I know.”

He walked past them inside, and waited for Kiro to follow with his tail curled in a question mark before closing the door gently behind him, leaving his team mates outside.

Chouji helped Meimei patch her shoji screens, did some woodwork, hauled and carried. He worked to exhaustion and then worked some more. When Hinata mentioned he was losing weight he shrugged.

Kiro bit Chouji once.

It was late, and Chouji was tired and when he stepped down it was on Kiro’s tail and the bite was there and then it was gone and so was Kiro, out the door into the night.

Chouji left the door open, patched himself up. In the morning Kiro was nested in his hair, and when he made to move the cat whined and pressed against him. Chouji laid there for the rest of the day, and offered no excuse to the missions office.

When the snow began to melt, Chouji and Kiro both enjoyed the sun. The maple tree began to unfurl green leaves and Kiro disappeared. Someone made a pass at Chouji during a festival- a cute guy with nice eyes. Chouji smiled but didn’t say anything back.

Kiro returned looking a bit too pleased with himself, and Chouji took him to Hana.

Chouji’s mother arrived one night and said to him, “He is sorry.”

Chouji said, “I’ve done everything he ever asked.” And made his mother tea. Kiro climbed up into her lap and she stroked his back, eyes and heart heavy.

Cousin Makaro was next, Great Uncle Torifu after. One evening both Inoichi and Shikaku showed up, which prompted Chouji to ask, “How did you think this would help?” To which Shikaku replied, “It won’t, but we can tell your old man we tried.”

Kiro accepted each of these visitors in turn, shunning some, adoring others.

When Choza came, Chouji wasn’t home.

Kiro was, and he sat on the stoop and watched this human who wasn’t his human warily.

Choza looked at the cat. He looked at the door.

He sat down and he cried into Kiro’s golden fur, as silently as his son; perhaps quieter, for he had more practice.

Kiro had practice in this, too. He curled up in a ball against Choza’s shoulder and began to purr.


	4. Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death: Asuma

Asuma Sarutobi had been a man of habit. With his death, he had left holes all over Konoha- in bars, in diners, in quiet bookshops and parks. There was no longer a time one could expect to see him buying flowers for Kurenai or bringing his students in for the day. There were no more heavy footsteps up to his second floor apartment, no more performances of fire jutsus for the academy students. Asuma Sarutobi was gone.

His worst habit, however, was not.

Shikamaru only smoked when he was deep in a funk, and the clouds he watched were filtered between his teeth like a dragon’s breath. He smoked Asuma’s brand even though he had always professed to hating it. When the problem was solved or the teammate returned home, the battle won or the treaty signed, the cigarettes would be tucked away in his vest pocket with the chrome lighter starting to fade with how often it was rubbed, a personal worry stone. With luck, when next Shikamaru needed a smoke, the pack would be stale. It was troublesome to replace, but he always managed.

Ino smoked at the (successful, always successful) conclusion of her solo missions, trying desperately to remember who she was with each pull. She would try recreating Asuma’s smoke rings and would inevitably fail, but the attempt would make her smile or cry and it would bring her that much closer to recalling who exactly called herself Ino Yamanaka, and why she did what she did. Ino smoked delicate little hand-rolled things, designer cigarettes for the designer woman. Her lighter was a gift from Sakura, all silver filagree. She would wash the smell of the smoke from her hair when she was Ino again, and that would be that.

Chouji smoked the least, and rarely where anyone could see; he was considerate like that, picking up after himself, disposing of the butts that smelled like cloves. Chouji smoked to calm down and kept his cigarettes in an Akimichi-made case, because they like so many other things were not designed to survive the human boulder jutsu. Chouji did not use a lighter, or a match; he brought flame to a fingertip in the only fire-based jutsu Asuma had ever taught him, and could blow the smoke rings Ino couldn’t.

Sometimes, mostly after missions requiring their unique formation, they would smoke together, sitting at their bench and watching the road into their village. Acrid, designer, clove, chrome, filigree, chakra, the smoke combined the same and floated away on the wind.

Ino would straighten her hair, ask her boys if it looked alright. Chouji would nod and Shikamaru would grunt which was as good as a nod. He would stub his cigarette out on his sandal’s heel. Ino would crush hers against the bench, and Chouji would close his fist and let the embers extinguish against the thick strap of his gauntlet. 

They would stand and return together, like their fathers before them, like their children after them. Years would pass and they would consider quitting, but none of them would.


	5. Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chouji/Sai

Sai paints on Chouji’s back. 

Of course he decorates other places, too- Chouji’s arms, his legs, across the broad expanse of his stomach and chest but there’s just something about his back, the dips and rises, how it is crisscrossed and pockmarked with scars from kunai, from shuriken, from more than one sword. 

Sai uses different ink for Chouji than he does on his rolls of paper, something thicker, a closer consistency to paste. That makes the paintings last a little longer in the light of their bedroom lamp. 

It gets everywhere, such is the nature of art, but Chouji has never complained and buys extra-strength detergent.

Sometimes Sai paints scenes, mist covered mountains and lazy, snaking rivers. Sometimes he paints flowers, other times groves of bamboo. He once painted a maiden in a green kimono but she was too pretty and he was pleased when she at last faded away. 

Chouji always sits very still, and in the beginning Sai thought he was sleeping. No amount of tickling with the brushtip will move Chouji when he has stilled for Sai. They make a game of it, sometimes, but Chouji always wins. 

Before missions- missions that Chouji can’t tell Sai about, any more than Sai can share with him- the former ROOT ninja will paint beasts. 

They are fierce, these creatures. He paints snarling lions, lunging dragons, screeching tengu and sharp-clawed Oni. If he has the time and the warning Sai covers Chouji in monsters, every inch of skin he knows will be hidden behind clothing. He never wastes time with color. Everything is stark and black and moves as Chouji moves, following the surge and recede of his skin like waves on the shore. 

When Chouji comes back (and he always comes back, steady as a bloody, exhausted sun) Sai can tell where he was attacked by which of his artworks have disappeared. 

Most often, it is his back. 

The lions, the oni, the tengu all fade, like the bamboo glade and the beautiful woman in the green kimono. 

Chouji lays still on their bed, great head pillowed by forearms corded with muscle and scars, and lets Sai paint him again.


	6. Say You'll Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you think this was inspired by a Taylor Swift song _you're not wrong._
> 
> Sasuke/Chouji

Chouji could see how it would end before it even began. 

The end was as inevitable as the sun coming up, really. Sasuke had plans, and those plans involved the revival of the Uchiha clan. Hard to revive a clan when you don’t have children to do it, and Chouji liked to think he was capable of a lot of things but giving birth wasn’t one of them. 

Really, didn’t Chouji have a set path, too? The sixteenth, who inherited the oath of the Triad from the fifteenth, and who would pass it on to the seventeenth when the time came? 

Still, it hadn’t ended yet. 

Sasuke’s fingernails were digging crescents into his back and the room was flooded with moonlight. Clothes were scattered across the floor like stones in a shallow river. 

Chouji buried his teeth in Sasuke’s shoulder, in that spot he’d made tender by biting before, and the Uchiha growled against him, surged up only to be held down by hands that could crush metal with ease. 

In the morning they would separate, Sasuke slipping from the apartment like the well trained ANBU he was. Chouji would clean up, make himself breakfast, meet his genin team- on time, damn it. They would complete missions, C or D rank (but they were getting better, he could see it, and the Exams were coming soon.) 

Maybe he would have dinner with Ino and Shikamaru, and listen to Ino plot to discover who it was her precious Sasuke-kun was sleeping with. Shikamaru would look at him with that hooded gaze, a silent reminder that if need be he would take on an Uchiha for his best friend. Just in case. 

Another tic mark would be added to the slow and inevitable countdown to the moment they parted ways, Sasuke to rebuild the Uchiha and Chouji to- what? 

Chouji wondered if he was ready for it, knew he wasn’t, pretended he was. 

It was going to end, but not tonight, not in this moonlit room. That had to be enough.


	7. Dead Man Walking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi/Chouji

Everyone in the bar was buying Kakashi drinks, because he was a dead man walking. 

“Better you than me.” Genma said to him, and Kakashi could only nod morosely. Beside Kakashi, Gai shook his head. “Rival,” He said, at normal speaking volume which was how Kakashi knew he was being serious, “you are over reacting.” 

“He’s gonna turn your spine into a jacob’s ladder.” Kotetsu said on Kakashi’s other side. “I hear rumors the clan used to eat human flesh anyone know if that’s true?” 

“Nothing in the archives.” Tonbo said. “I checked.” 

“Would you put that in the archives if it was _your_ clan?” Kotetsu asked. “Eh, whatever. You’re probably too stringy anyway, Hatake.” 

Kakashi took another shot. 

“Most likely,” Gai said diplomatically, “He will simply ask you what your intentions are, as any good father would.” 

“I hear the last time someone made a comment about his wife they wound up bedridden for six months.” Izumo commented. “Really bad macadamia allergy, apparently.” 

“It was ten months, and it was almonds.” 

The bar went silent as everyone in it remembered, quite suddenly, that Akimichi Choza was a special Jounin and former ANBU heavyweight who used to sneak up behind Hiashi Hyuuga for funsies. 

Kakashi took a deep breath, patted Gai on the shoulder, and turned around. 

Choza’s smile was pleasant, but it was showing unusually large eyeteeth. 

“Hello, Kakashi-san. My son told me something interesting this afternoon. May I buy you a drink?” 

The dead man walking could only nod.


	8. Things In Common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gai and Chouji have things in common.

Gai and Chouji have more in common than a lot of people think. 

They both care immensely about their village and everyone in it. They both suffered taunting as children, and both spared their tormenters. Gai loves the springtime and so does Chouji, and they've crossed paths more than once admiring the leaves unfurling. 

These are only a few similarities, not important or special, but there's one more. 

Both Maito Gai and Akimichi Chouji know what it is to be best friends with a genius. 

Sure, their definitions of this single most important commonality might not be the same at all (Chouji doesn't even want to think of what Shikamaru would do if he started calling him 'Dear Rival') but there's no denying that in battle or tactics, geniuses don't vary much. 

They're as touchy as cats, as short-sighted as children, and as selfish as newborns. 

Gai and Chouji have discussed this, at length, normally in a hospital room in Konoha over a bed which always holds a prone Hatake Kakashi. 

(Chouji thinks he lucked out here; Shikamaru might be slow moving, might be a bit reckless with his own safety, but look up 'self sacrifice' in the dictionary and you might actually get a glimpse of Kakashi's uncovered face.) 

The first time was an accident, for the most part. Gai dragged Kakashi back to Konoha, which was par the course for any mission wherein Kakashi had been sent alone, someone realized what a terrible mistake that was, and someone else- usually lower on the payscale- was sent to find Gai and explain, yet again, that he needed to go be sure that Sharingan Kakashi didn't bite the big one.

Chouji had been bringing Ino dinner, knowing that if he didn't at least glare at her for a little bit at the nurse's station she would try and foist it off on a coworker. 

As he was leaving, Ino properly chastised and fed, Chouji heard someone reading a book out loud. That wasn't unusual, but. 

It wasn't a good book at all. 

In fact, it was- well. 

Chouji stuck his head in at the part where a throbbing erection was attempting to escape the confines of someone's underwear. 

Gai looked at him, and he looked at Gai, and a whole conversation was had in the span of a single moment. 

In this moment, they both Understood. 

"May I come in?" Chouji had asked, and Gai had set aside Kakashi's favorite Icha Icha and nodded. 

Kakashi winds up in the hospital with what could be called alarming regularity. It has something to do with how much his chosen skill set drains him of chakra and a lot to do with how much of a hot mess he is, and Gai is relieved that someone understands. 

They meet like this time and again- Gai reading to his unconscious Rival, Chouji at the hospital for one reason or another. Sometimes Chouji will take over the reading so that Gai can rest his voice. 

Once, their roles are reversed, and it is Shikamaru in the bed. 

Things Went Wrong, and Gai can see them in Chouji's eyes. He can see the twists and the turns, can see Chouji trying and failing to find a solution that could have prevented this outcome. Gai watches a butterfly throw itself into a thorny bush again and again until finally he takes Chouji's hand and lets him squeeze.

The average person has a hand PSI pressure of thirty pounds. Ninja, depending on their specialties, range anywhere from eighty to a hundred and fifty PSI. 

Chouji is an Akimichi. Gai isn't sure how much strength is in that crushing grip, but he knows that it takes expert training for Chouji to keep from breaking every bone in the jounin's hand. 

"Does he read?" Gai asks, and Chouji says, "He plays shogi." 

They try it. They're both bad at it. 

"Geniuses," Gai says to Chouji, and Chouji's smile is weak but it's there. 

Shikamaru heals, just like Kakashi always does. Chouji and Ino fuss over him for a week and he calls them troublesome. 

Chouji and Gai both like the springtime. They are both inherently kind hearted, and they don't see this as weakness. 

They both sit over hospital beds that hold geniuses who are as selfish as newborns and as touchy as cats. 

They're both there when their geniuses wake up, and they'll be there when they fall. 

That's what Rivals and best friends do.


	9. Boar By The Tusks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ino has some things to say about this mess Chouji's gone and gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this short takes place en medias res, which means (for those who might not know) 'in the middle of the action'. There's no real beginning and like all the other fics in this collection it is meant to stand alone.

Once she got over the indignity of it all, Ino Yamanaka _freaked out._

She felt this was a rational reaction to realizing that the Love Of Her Life (Until He Started Dating Chouji) Was Also Dating Chouji.

Now Ino was willing to admit a lot of things regarding Sasuke Uchiha. Was he gorgeous? Of course. Was he talented? Absolutely. Was he quite possibly unhinged, dangerous, and an emotional time-bomb worthy of intense psychological scrutiny? Oh _hell_ to the yes.

Ever since he’d come back with his brother’s blood on his sword and Orochimaru’s head in a bag, Sasuke had been Watched. Ino couldn’t fault the Hokage or the ANBU for taking notice. Sure, their Uchiha Scion had returned to Konoha mostly in one piece, even made it through the landscape-altering fight with Naruto in mostly one piece, but that was his body.

His head? Another matter altogether.

Chouji was good with head-things, Ino knew that. He could talk just about anyone out of the dumps. Chouji radiated good cheer, and when he wasn’t wanted he knew it. He wasn’t like Gai or Lee, going on at length with no thought to the feelings of the people around him. Chouji was never intrusive or obnoxious, he was just there, a constant support.

That was great, it was part of what made Chouji so reliable, but now all that steadiness, all that reliability, was going head to head with, well.

Sasuke Uchiha.

Ino Yamanaka knew damn well she was right to be worried.

Shikamaru Nara, much to her frustration, did not share her concern.

“Chouji can take care of himself.” He said. Rationally, Shikamaru should know. He and Chouji had been friends for so long Ino thought of them as a single unit, choujiandshika. If Shikamaru said Chouji was fine then he was fine.

For the moment.

Ino had never been terribly patient, at least not when she wasn't in a life or death situation. Better to head the problem off at the pass rather than find yourself surrounded at the eleventh hour. 

Had Ino been younger, she’d have drawn it out. She’d have set up surveillance, convinced Sakura to help her out. There would have been shenanigans.

Ino was not a child any longer, and she didn’t have the heart to even pretend at shenanigans. Involving Sakura just seemed too heartless. Billboard Brow was still a little raw, scraped by her team mate's abandonment, his apathetic return, and then the revelation of his relationship with Chouji of all people. 

(They had gotten very drunk together when they found out, Sakura and Ino; and it perhaps showed how deep their friendship was that while both complained at length about the stupidity of the male of their species, Sakura had not once said anything unkind about Chouji.) 

Ino couldn’t go jutsu-to-jutsu with Sasuke, anyway; she didn’t know the more advanced clan techniques that would let her into his mind safely, and learning them led down paths she wasn’t certain she wanted to tread.

For a little while Ino tried to talk herself out of it altogether. Sasuke was her first crush, couldn’t she just fall back on petty jealousy? She was good with that.

Even as Ino thought it she knew she couldn’t. Childhood jealousy was one thing. Chouji was quite another. Chouji was a part of her team. He was her personal cheerleading squad, her cornucopia of snacks she really shouldn’t be eating, her sounding board for new date ideas and outfits. It wasn’t just choujiandshika, it was choujiandino. Pig-Deer-Butterfly, an unbeatable combo. 

So Ino tied up her hair, winged her eyeliner kunai-sharp, and waited for Sasuke outside of the hospital one cool autumn day.

When he emerged, Ino said, “May I talk to you?”

Sasuke looked her over. Once that look would have melted her, but Ino was wiser. She could see the fractures around the edges and her heart hammered like a drum.

“Sure.” Sasuke said, and Ino patted the bench beside her. He sat, which surprised her, relaxed incrementally which also surprised her, and said, “I thought you’d come sooner.”

“Shikamaru thinks this is unnecessary.” She said as evenly as she could. No point in dealing in pleasantries. This wasn't a diplomatic negotiation or a tit-for-tat over mission rights, after all. 

“You don’t.” Sasuke said. 

“No. I don’t.” Ino gave him a long look.

Sasuke quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “want to discredit Chouji’s emotional maturity here. But I have concerns.”

“Regarding me.”

“Regarding you and everything you’re dragging with you.”

That startled Sasuke and Ino felt a grim victory in it. She blazed on ahead. “Chouji is very giving. He lets people walk all over him. He’s let me walk all over him for a long time.” Admitting that didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, maybe because Chouji had finally started standing up for himself. “You have- had- priorities, Sasuke. You put them before your teacher, your friends, and your village. Whatever new priorities you have now, what guarantee do you have you won’t put them before Chouji?”

Sasuke gave her a long, considering look. Ino returned it, spine straight as an iron rod.

His smile was as strange as it was heartbreaking. “You did a lot of growing, Ino.” He said.

“Some of us had to.” Ino said. “You haven’t answered my question. You always said you wanted to renew your clan, Sasuke. You can’t do that with Chouji.”

“We’re figuring it out.”

“Will figuring it out leave me and Shikamaru an Akimichi in pieces?” Ino challenged.

“You talk like he can’t defend himself.” Sasuke said.

“Against people he cares for? He can’t.” Ino said.

“I disagree.” Sasuke leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. “What do you want to hear, Ino?”

 _That when the moment comes you’ll cut him loose as painlessly as possible,_ Ino wanted to say. _That when you finally snap we’ll be able to put you down quickly and get him somewhere safe._

She didn’t say any of these things.

“We’re working on it.” Sasuke said. “That’s all I can say and all I can promise. Is it enough?”

Ino looked straight into those deadly eyes and gave Sasuke Uchiha sixteen generations’ worth of mind-shatteringly blue Yamanaka stare. “We’ll see.” She said.

When she walked away it took everything in her power not to look back. To look back was to lose. 

Ino Yamanaka did not plan on losing- not Chouji, not to Sasuke. Not ever. 

If it came right down to it, would Konoha suffer without an Uchiha? 

No. No it would not.


	10. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's hunger, and then there's _Hunger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: canon-typical violence, gore, cannibalism. 
> 
> Actually jury's still out on whether it's cannibalism. 
> 
> Does it count if you've insinuated an entire clan of ninja started from something hella nonhuman in the first place...?
> 
> Whatever.

Chouji has an intimate relationship with hunger in all its forms. It is equal parts cultural inevitability and occupational hazard, because Chouji is an Akimichi of Konoha, and he is also a ninja. 

There are variations in Chouji's hungers and he has learned them like a second language. He knows the difference between 'I skipped a meal' hungry and 'I am about to fight Great Uncle Torifu for the last of the rice' hungry. There is panicked hungry and angry hungry, happy hungry and depressed hungry. Each of these, in turn, Chouji has dealt with. Like his father before him and his many cousins beside him hunger is a part of Chouji's life. Hunger warns him when he needs to bulk up on calories and it shrieks at him when he overstretches his reserves. 

Then there is Hungry. 

It's not the same as all the other hungries. It's scarcely felt, even more scarcely described, so rare that it must be spoken with the proper stressing of the first letter, that emboldened upper case. 

It wasn't so rare during the Warring States period, though it wasn't a regular occurrence, either; and it's been mostly forgotten by the ninja world. 

That's not a bad thing at all. 

Chouji has only ever been Hungry once. 

They are at war- Naruto's war, their war, held together by thin threads of alliance and shreds of hope in dark places. He is separated from Ino and Shikamaru, his unit made up of Rock and Mist ninja who refer to him as Leaf or more often as Chubs and it's affectionate and somewhat desperate, so he allows it. 

They are set to guard a narrow pass, through which exists one of the quickest funnel points to the Land of Wind. 

There are three weeks without much activity, and then someone on the other side has an Idea and everything goes to hell. 

There are waves of enemies- zetsu, ninja who are really disguised zetsu, a few mercenaries and missing nin here and there who couldn't be convinced of the alliance, who took one look at five nations with such bloody histories promising complete cooperation and ran for the hills and for Akatsuki. 

They've been fighting to defend the pass for days and it's starting to show. A twenty-nin group has been reduced to eleven, and exhaustion is as much an enemy as a shuriken. 

Chouji's in the front- he's always in the front. 

He's an Akimichi and he's thinning out. 

Chouji can reduce the amount of chakra he pulls from the fats of his body, turn a roaring dam into a dripping hose, and this is what he does but it isn't enough. His fists are raw from punching, his stomach screaming that he's pushing it too far, too far. They don't have the rations and they don't have the time and now they're nine and Chouji drags bodies back behind the lines, a walking kunai pincushion because he will be damned if he leaves one companion in this forsaken place. 

He is going to die and he knows it. It's why Shikamaru was so loathe to send him off, why so many of his cousins remain with the bigger groups, the ones with immediate access to supply lines. 

Chouji is going to die, but the eight others are going to live. 

He is going to make sure of it. 

The captain isn't thrilled but they're out of time and out of luck. They can't hold the pass much longer and there is not a word of reinforcements, the Alliance spread too thin. It's either retreat, or be slaughtered- their enemy takes no prisoners. Chouji doesn't so much volunteer to cover the retreat as he stands over the fire, looms, reminds everyone else there that he is The Biggest they've ever seen and arguing with him is a bad idea. 

They try, bless them. 

Chouji shakes his head, eats his last somewhat moldy rice ball, and takes what weapons he might need. 

He takes the pills, too. 

Attack with an audacious frontal assault, keep the enemy occupied, buy as much time as possible and die as painlessly as can be managed. It's not much of a plan, certainly not Nara-caliber, but why fix what isn't broken? 

At the proper signal Chouji hits the enemy from their weakest side, enlarged body rolling at hundreds of revolutions per minute. He grinds stone to dust, grinds bodies to mush, and when someone catches him on a spiked chain he stops rolling and he starts pulling. 

The nin who had been holding the other end of the chain is flying at Chouji, yelling. A push of chakra to the fist and Chouji could punch him in half, but he's out of chakra. 

The incoming nin isn't, though. 

The simmering rage in Chouji's belly roars. mixes with his frustration and his sorrow and the emptiness of his stomach. In the very cells of his being something ancient, something the Akimichi Clan had swept neatly under a rug in some abandoned house, screams to life.

The ninja with the chain doesn't have a lot of time to comprehend just how messy his death is about to be. His last thoughts are about teeth, and how very big they are. 

It's amazing. It's glorious. It's like taking all three of the pills at once but there's no pain, there's only euphoria and chakra. So much chakra. 

When Chouji wakes hours later, he's staring at a starry sky and surrounded by the dead. 

He sits up, looks around. The crows haven't arrived yet but they will in short order. The Akimichi is the only living soul. 

Maybe for a mind so fiendishly knotty as Shikamaru's, or as slippery as Ino's, the answer would have been shocking. As it is, Chouji takes off his forehead protector when he can muster up the strength, just to be sure that the stuff caked on his face, neck, and chest plate is precisely what he thinks it is. 

It is. 

His hands don't look too pretty, either. 

Chouji gets to his feet, investigates. The enemy camp had stood at fifty, with reinforcements arriving midway through the fight. If all those soldiers aren't dead, they're well on their way. Chouji can positively identify at least four ninja who look like they were ravaged by a wild dog. Throats are torn out. Noses are conspicuously absent. Shoulders are bitten down to bone, thick slabs of red muscle torn out and leaving strings behind. 

Chouji rubs his jaw, uses his forehead protector to check his teeth. No chips, no cracks, none missing. 

Chouji has always been a simplistic thinker, and while it means he'll never be a master strategist or an advisor to the Hokage, it does mean he can come to conclusions faster and more efficiently than either absent teammate. He bundles up the conclusion and neatly puts it away. 

Chouji finds a canteen, tests it for poison. He washes up as best he can, scavenges what will be useful, and retreats from his feasting table. 

There are questions and Chouji skirts them, is allowed to because it's a war and there are more important things to be concerned about than one small miraculous victory. 

Eventually the war is won. Treaties are written, diplomatic liaisons set up. 

Chouji writes letters to comrades in other nations. The battlefield outside the pass wears away to dust. 

That kind of Hunger comes once in a great while, a generation, perhaps. When he is Head of his clan, with access to all the tomes and records his office offers, Chouji reads other accounts. Some are detailed, some are vague. Some end in tragedy, others without a sound. There are theories and treatises and research going back a hundred years and more but the how and the why are long gone. 

Chouji isn't certain he needs to know either thing. 

Sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat with a forgotten taste on his tongue, and won't eat for a day; but if that's the price to pay for living, Chouji will take it. He's a simple man, after all. Barbecue is still his favorite, and in the end that's probably what matters.


	11. Property Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chouji and Sakura, when apart, are perfectly capable of controlling and mitigating the damage caused by their brutal fighting styles.
> 
> Together? 
> 
> Not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chouji/sakura

It made absolutely no sense that Shikamaru could detect and he had dedicate a not-insignificant amount of brainpower to the project. 

Sakura was, while somewhat temperamental, very aware of what she was capable of and how far she could allow herself to go. As a medical ninja and as the bearer of a strength of a hundred seal, she always carried herself with professionalism and grace. 

Chouji was the epitome of power, could level a fortress without much effort, but he never seemed like it. Kind, gentle, just as able to snatch a butterfly out of the air as break a bone, he walked like he weighed nothing.

Yet when they were _together…_

Shikamaru could feel a headache coming on. “Explain this to me one more time?” He asked his friends, reaching for a coffee cup that was already empty because he’d consumed the whole damn pot when he got there. 

“Well the missing nin from Kumo, you remember-” Sakura said. 

“The one with the hand.” Chouji waved one hand. There was still plaster dust in his hair. “It's got an ear in it?” 

Sakura shuddered. “So creepy.” 

“Is that being creepy why you hit him with the post?” Shikamaru asked. 

“The post was the first thing I grabbed!” Sakura defended. “I didn’t know it was load bearing and besides Chouji was right there!” 

“Wasn't hard to keep the walls up,” Chouji admitted, “but that sneaky sound jutsu of his-” 

It dissolved into the same conversation they had had three times before. 

“and so then I grabbed the sink-” 

“-after all of that, Shikamaru, he stood back up can you freaking believe it I’ve never been so insulted in my _life_ , who STANDS UP after a baika elbow-drop nobody that's who-” 

“So Chouji asked if I was okay with being thrown while he was huge and I said sure because what other option did we have-” 

“-and here we are!” They concluded. 

Shikamaru looked out the opening of the temporary shelter that had been built, onto the utterly decimated remains of the hot spring inn that his friends had been resting at on their way home from Suna. 

He looked down at the assembled damage estimate on his clipboard. 

He reached for his empty coffee cup again and said, “You’re not dating, right?” 

“No.” They answered, a little too quickly. 

Shikamaru felt his entire world get really. really. troublesome.


	12. But Did It Hurt Though

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A response to the prompt, "Characters A and B are sharing space in a bath house and Character A realizes Character B has a tattoo."

“We’re not discussing this.” 

“Chouji. Dude.”

“We. Are Not. Discussing this, Kiba.” 

“Why the fuck NOT?!” Kiba waved his arms around, grinning like a loon. “That’s amazing!” 

“Kiba.” Chouji said, gently, patiently. 

“No really! I mean it! Like it looks cool I never thought you’d ever have the balls to get a-” 

When Shikamaru walked into the public bathing area to find Kiba’s head underwater and his hands clawing desperately at Chouji’s- which was what was holding him underwater- he rose an eyebrow. 

“He was a good man,” Chouji said piously. 

“I’m sure.” Shikamaru coughed as bubbles continued to come up around Kiba’s submerged head. “Does this have anything to do with the tattoo on your-” 

“I will render you unconscious before I beat you to death with my bare hands in deference to our years of friendship, Shikamaru.” Chouji said. 

“Got it. Let him up.” 

_“No.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we do not speak of the time Chouji got completely trashed in Suna and nearly caused an intervillage incident along with getting himself a magic tattoo.


	13. Proud Of Your Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it got right down to it, Chouza would always resent that he had to pick Chouji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic deals with an extensive headcanon you've seen once or thrice if you read my other fics- the origins of Chouji's older brother Chouichi (an original character) and how it is that Chouji was picked as clan heir over him.

When it got right down to it, Chouza knew he would always resent that he had to pick Chouji. 

He loved both of his sons and knew that they loved him. He also knew it was an imperfect love, lopsided and touched with bitterness that gave the whole thing a more complex flavor than many people liked. 

Chouichi was, objectively, _better._ He had the Ice Release, the first Akimichi in five generations to exhibit that regressive memory of their origins in the Land of Water. He was unyielding and grim, standing firm when all others would fold. His handle on the secret Clan jutsus was traditional in execution but creative in application. Was he a genius on par with the likes of Uchiha Itachi? No. 

Chouza didn’t put much stock in geniuses. He’d seen many rise and fall, burning themselves and everyone around them as they plummeted into the ocean with melted wax wings. 

And that was the problem, damn it. 

Itachi had plummeted, the poor unfortunate soul, and he’d taken Chouichi with him. 

Chouza often wondered what it would have been like if he had seen. If he had given his oldest son the attention he needed, if he’d insisted that Chouichi join another team when the one he formed with Itachi and Inuzuka Hana was dissolved. 

If he’d paid attention to how Chouichi’s face followed Itachi like a flower followed the sun. 

If onlys were pointless now; what was done was done. 

Itachi had fallen, and Chouichi had too. 

Chouza could admit to failing his oldest son. Chouichi had been so angry, and it was an anger unknown to Chouza. It had been alien and almost frightening in its intensity and the more the Akimichi tried to quench it the worse it got. 

In the end, Chouza knew the choice he had to make was the right one. Chouichi was nearing fifteen, old enough to acknowledge that he had to control his emotions, that nothing happened in a vacuum. He showed none of that control. Maybe he hadn’t had it from the start. 

Chouza’s strong and unyielding son had a heart made of brittle glass. 

Which left…Chouji. 

Oh, Chouji. 

Gentle, kind Chouji, who would save a butterfly from the pouring rain without hesitation. Chouji who did not stand up to his tormentors, break their arms like Chouichi had, but rather wondered aloud if they were right. Chouji who showed not a speck of backbone or fighting spirit. 

Chouji had much of his mother in him, maybe not enough of his father. 

Chouza convinced the elder council to wait on making it official. Chouji was too young, Chouichi too raw. Maybe things would change. 

Only they didn’t. 

Under Chouza’s flabbergasted gaze Chouji determinedly put his brother back together, shard by tiny shard. Chouichi eschewed teams altogether, joined ANBU, was good at it. Chouji continued to be kind in defiance of the truths of the world around him. 

Chouza wondered if his younger son was a coward. He tried to speak to the council about it. They told him he was being foolish. 

Chouza was not so sure. 

Then they brought Sarutobi Asuma home in a box. 

Chouza watched them bury Asuma- Asuma who had assured him, constantly, that no Chouji was no coward and yes he would make a fine Clan Head all he needs, Chouza, is confidence. Help him find it. 

Chouza didn’t know how to show Chouji a way to a place he'd never had to hunt for, and so he failed his second son as he had failed his first. 

Chouza waited. He waited for the fits, for the rages. He held his breath, let it go. 

The rages never came. 

Oh, Chouji cried- by himself, by the river, where none could see him and that was a knife to his father’s heart because Chouza knew that Chouji did not want him to see, did not want his father to think him any weaker than he did. 

Chouji knew what Chouza could not say- that love and respect were not the same and that Chouza loved his son deeply but he did not yet respect him. 

Chouji cried until he had nothing left and in the morning he was gone. When Chouza went to Chouichi, his oldest son did up the last strap on his ANBU gear and said, “He’ll be okay. He’s strong.” 

Chouichi was right. 

Chouji came home, and he brought Ino and Shikamaru too. He didn’t speak of what had happened but Kakashi had deep respect for the former sensei of Maito Gai, and he recounted every moment. 

The war came. 

There were no words for the cruelty of pushing their children to face Asuma revived and Chouza hated Shikaku a little bit for it, the same way he knew Shikaku hated himself. Here was the crucial moment and Chouza would not lie. He had expected Chouji to fail- to try valiantly, but fall short. 

Chouji did not break his chrysalis. 

He destroyed it and from its shards he lifted the respect Chouichi had always given him and Chouza had withheld. 

Chouza saw then that bitter, bitter truth: 

That Chouji was strong. Stronger than Chouichi, stronger than Chouza, possibly the strongest Akimichi to live. Because while Chouichi’s heart was brittle glass, Chouji’s was an iron fortress and within it he carried immeasurable kindness and a capacity for understanding that his father could not hope to achieve. 

Chouji had always had more of his mother in him than his father. 

Chouza resented that he had to pick Chouji, because Chouichi in the end was so much like him. It felt like a rejection of all he had been taught. 

In the quiet aftermath of the war, sitting with Chouichi on one side and Chouji on the other as he stared at a shogi game Inoichi and Shikaku would never start again, Chouza knew that the time for change had come. 

Chouza loved his sons, and his sons loved him. It was an imperfect love, lopsided and touched with bitterness. 

Chouza hoped that the next kaleidoscope of butterflies would have a world that tasted sweeter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A group of butterflies can be called a kaleidoscope or a swarm.


	14. Sugar Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi and Sakura need a wedding cake. Chouji needs vengeance. It all works out. Originally written as a cheer up for another tumblr user.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sakura/Kakashi, Chouji/Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge

“You want,” Chouji said slowly, “A seven layer wedding cake?”

There was fire in Sakura’s eyes. “Yes.” 

“Each layer a different flavor.”

“Mhm.” 

“Decorated as a scale model of Konoha during the cherry blossom season.” 

“You have it exactly.” Sakura said. Chouji didn’t bother looking at Kakashi, who had his book open but certainly wasn’t reading it, no. He was enjoying watching the show. Chouji couldn’t blame him. Sakura fired up was always a lovely sight. 

“And this has nothing to do with Naruto and Sasuke’s five layer God Tree with lounging edible buttercream tailed beasts?” 

“Why, Chouji,” Sakura said, pressing one deadly fine-boned hand against her chest in shock. “Do you think I am the kind of woman who would want to upstage my dear teammates’ emotional bonding?”

“If I answer you are you gonna wreck cousin Fujiko’s table?” Chouji asked, gesturing to the broad table between them. Sakura grinned and she showed teeth. “I might.” 

“Then I won’t, because this was expensive and Fujiko would kill me before I could get her a new one.” Chouji said. “I’ll do it.” 

“You know I thought you’d be a hard sell, Chouji.” Kakashi said. 

“Like _hell._ ” Chouji said. “I still owe you for saving my ass during Pein’s invasion. Besides. Sasuke made a point of ordering a cake from Hidden Sand.” 

“Intervillage baking rivalries are serious business.” Kakashi said. 

“You bet your ass they are, Lord Hokage sir.” Chouji said. “We made his parents’ wedding cake, we made his grandparents’ wedding cake, I could pull the receipts all the way back to Madara Uchiha.” 

“Sounds personal.” Sakura said. 

“It is.” Chouji said sweetly. “Sakura by the time I’m done you’re gonna have to buy a new kimono to make sure the cake doesn’t upstage you. You want working water features?” 

Sakura blinked for a moment. “You can do that?” 

“And how,” Chouji promised her. 

Sakura’s grin was slow and it was evil. Kakashi closed his book and said. “Do I want to know how much this is going to cost?” 

“You can’t put a price on a woman’s happiness, Lord Hokage,” Chouji said. “The second wisest advice my father ever gave me.” 

“What’s the first wisest?” 

“The easiest way to intimidate at a meeting is to eat everything on the table.” 

“Indeed.” Kakashi said. “Are we done?” 

“Done?” Sakura and Chouji said at the same time. 

“Are you kidding? Now we need to talk flavors!” Sakura said. “I was thinking cherry for the bottom-” 

Kakashi groaned playfully and finally put his book away. Really, this was too much fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hear there are pissbabies who have a problem with Sakura/Kakashi. I'm not interested. Leave that baggage at the door, please.


	15. Paved With Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ino has Opinions about Sasuke dating Chouji, Sakura has Opinions about Chouji dating Sasuke, Shikamaru is prepared for murder and Naruto is just confused. ChoujixSasuke.

It started, predictably, with Ino and Sakura. 

Namely, Ino stalking up to Sakura, pointing dramatically at her in the middle of the hospital courtyard during lunch, and declaring “Keep your psychopath away from Chouji!” 

It took Sakura precisely twenty seconds to process what Ino had said, and then shoot back with “Sasuke is not a psychopath!” 

This was not par the course for their usual frenemy banter because deep down a part of Sakura knew that Ino was right. Sasuke was. Well. Psychopath wasn’t the right term but he wasn’t exactly all there, either. Rude and inaccurate terminology aside that tiny rational part of Sakura knew that Ino was probably right to be a little bit worried. 

Unfortunately that tiny rational part took shotgun to her temper in the driver’s seat. 

“Sasuke is allowed to see anyone he likes! You should be thankful he picked Chouji!” 

It wasn’t until Ino’s eyes narrowed that Sakura’s brain caught up with her mouth and doing the basic math came up with the answer to the square root of _oh shit._

By the time Naruto got involved the two girls had stalked to a training field and begun what could only just politely be called a spar because killing intent was not normally a part of a friendly spar. There was no chakra (because they were friends and Sakura knew what her fists could do) and there were no mind jutsus (because Ino knew deep down that Sakura hadn’t meant what she’d said) but they were still two highly trained ninja. 

So there was definitely blood. 

A moment after Naruto arrived, slack-jawed and staring, Shikamaru arrived- summoned by a concerned Hinata who had been passing by with her new genin team. 

“What’s this about?” Shikamaru asked. 

Naruto shook his head, then put his hands up to his mouth. “OIII! SAKURA!” 

The two women paused in their fistfight. “WHAT?!” they both roared. 

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Naruto asked. 

“SHE SAID SASUKE WAS-”

“SHIKAMARU YOU SHOULD HAVE HEARD WHAT SHE SAID ABOUT-” 

Naruto didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of the accusatory words because Sakura found herself frozen, shadow attached neatly to another spread across the ground. 

Ino looked a bit smug and Sakura hated her for it as she was forced to turn. 

“What,” Shikamaru said with careful enunciation, “did you say about Chouji?” 

Naruto glanced between his team mate and Shikamaru and did what he did best.

He panicked. 

In panicking, he whacked Shikamaru over the back of the head, breaking the kagemane. 

“SAKURA RUN!” Naruto yelped. 

“LIKE HELL I WILL YOU-” 

The shadow rose up again and both Sakura and Naruto made an about-face and took off. 

“GET BACK HERE YOU COWARDS!” Ino howled, and Team Asuma sans one gave Team Kakashi sans one chase. 

—

It had been a good day. 

Inuzuka Kaoru and Kiromaru had mastered their scent marking at last and Aburame Ran had successfully completed a summoning contract with the tarantulas. Shimura Masae was getting closer to finely controlling her ribbons every day. Chouji knew he had a good team, and that soon they would be ready to move from D missions to C ranks. 

It had been a good day. 

It was made a bit more bewildering when Sasuke appeared beside him (not unusual) grabbed him (unusual) and dragged him into the nearest alley (very unusual.) 

“What’s up?” He asked. 

“Have you seen Ino or Shikamaru?” Sasuke asked him as he stowed his ANBU mask. 

“Not today,” Chouji said, “why?” 

“I haven’t seen Naruto or Sakura either but according to Hinata they’ve been-” 

Sasuke couldn’t finish his commentary before there was a loud crash and a strange sort of sound- like water being sucked down a drain. 

Chouji’s eyes went wide. “That’s the shadowbox jutsu,” he said, and took off in the direction of the sound. Sasuke was on his heels and they came around a corner near one of the dead end streets that faced Konoha’s wall to find an interesting sight. 

Shikamaru was indeed performing the shadowbox trap jutsu, and Naruto was doing his best to keep himself out of it, clawing at the ground as his shadow consumed him. Sakura had Ino in a headlock made unbreakable by the minty green chakra coursing up and down her arms. Ino was doing her best to get Sakura’s leg with the hidden knife in her right sandal. 

Chouji looked around and put his hands on his hips. 

“What,” he said, “the everloving FUCK, you guys?” 

The tone of voice alone was enough to make both Shikamaru and Ino freeze. Behind Chouji, Sasuke rose an eyebrow. 

“Chouji she said-” Ino started. 

“Don’t you DARE Ino-pig YOU said-” 

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Naruto whimpered.

“Shikamaru?” Chouji asked patiently. 

Sasuke was treated to a sight rarely seen- Shikamaru Nara trying to think of a way out of talking to Chouji, and failing miserably. Finally the Nara sighed and released Naruto, who jerked to his feet as his shadow returned to its normal insubstantial self. 

“Ino and Sakura got into an altercation about your…relationship,” Shikamaru said with a quick and judging glance at Sasuke, “and it became physical.” 

“And you joined in why?” Chouji asked. 

Shikamaru’s jaw clenched. Chouji sighed and turned his attention to Sakura, who had gone pale. She released Ino. 

“I.” Sakura said, then fell silent. 

Chouji’s smile was too kind, almost fake-kind, and it made Sakura wince. “Whatever it was, I’m sure I’ve heard worse, Sakura.” He said. “It’s okay.” 

“I said Ino should be thankful Sasuke picked you.” Sakura said, eyes on the ground. 

“Be fair Billboard Brow I started it.” Ino said. “Chouji I told her Sasuke was a psychopath and she ought to keep him away from you.” 

Sasuke’s other eyebrow went up. Ino saw this and said, “Can you blame me?” 

“No,” Sasuke said, “but this isn’t any of your business, is it?” 

“Like hell!” that came from Naruto which brought everyone up short. “We’re all friends! We’re all comrades! So what happens to the two of you does affect us!” He pointed at them. “I don’t get this! I’m not gonna lie! But,” he shuffled uncomfortably, “but Sasuke seems a lot happier now than he did. And Chouji you kinda stick up for yourself more? So, so maybe I don’t have to get it. Maybe what matters is that it works.” 

Shikamaru shook his head, amazed. “I’m gonna make a Hokage of you yet, Uzumaki.” He said. 

“Small miracles.” Sasuke muttered. Naruto made a rude hand gesture at him. “If we’re all done here?” 

“I don’t think we are,” Chouji said thoughtfully. “Ino, Shikamaru.” 

They both looked nervous. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me,” Chouji said, “but I can take care of myself.”

“Same goes for you two.” Sasuke said to Naruto and Sakura. “But. Thanks.” 

There was a pregnant pause and Chouji said, “Okay I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.” 

Shikamaru groan-laughed. “Why is that always how you end fights?” 

“It’s not how I always end fights,” Chouji said. “just how I end fights with people I like. Come on. My treat. I was gonna celebrate anyway- I’ve got an Aburame who made a contract with spiders!” 

“Say what?!” Sakura exclaimed. “Little Ran?!” 

“Yeah, she-” 

Teams Asuma and Kakashi went out to dinner and left the wall behind.


	16. Official

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chouji has become a chunin, and what was always assumed must now be put to paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short connects almost directly to Proud Of Your Boy and addresses the same family dynamic and history that can be found in my fic Stages, all of it linked to my original character Chouichi.

Chouji walked home slowly.

Of course he didn’t tend to hurry as a rule, and there were plenty of opinions as to why, most of them rude. Still it seemed as though he was intentionally meandering his way back to the clan Compound when many of his other year mates had all but teleported home. They were excited, and they had every right to be.

They had become chunin.

It was an advancement long in coming and Chouji was cautiously pleased at the new title (and the pay raise that came with it.) He was doubly sure that Ino and Sakura, Hinata, Neji and Tenten, Lee and Shino and Kiba deserved their promotions.

He could picture the scene at the Yamanaka compound- Ino bursting through the door, face flushed, eyes sparkling. Her mother putting her hands over her mouth, Inoichi busting out into that massive, manic grin he’d passed on to his child. No doubt they would plan a tasteful yet undeniably lavish party.

Hinata and Neji probably got more subdued receptions but the Hyuuga would celebrate in their quiet, straight-laced way. No doubt Gai and Lee were crying over the sunset and Tenten had probably finally bought herself that perfectly balanced sword she’d been eyeing for a month and a half.

The Inuzuka compound would be in an absolute uproar because Kiba wasn’t the inheriting child but he was one of the best trackers their Clan had ever put out, and Shibi had probably already planned a small trip for his son- something in a more exotic locale where they could gather new beetles together.

What about Sakura? No doubt Tsunade would plan something. She was very proud of her student and rightfully so. Of course whatever she did plan would probably involve more alcohol than Sakura was comfortable with. Ino would do something, too- something small and tasteful. Lunch and shopping, maybe. Anything to take Sakura's mind off of the fact that she alone had become a chunin of Konoha, was one where once there were three.

Chouji knew a celebration was waiting for him as well. Something big and loud and full of all the delicious things anyone in the clan could think to make. There would be drinking and laughing. He would be teased, wrestled with, hugged and generally harassed.

His Aunt Sakuya would sniff and mutter about chunin not being that big a deal, but she would no doubt give him that precious prideful smile. His mother would kiss his cheeks, his father would radiate pleasure and relief.

It would be fun. It would be wonderful.

It _would_ be.

As Chouji made the final turn up the hidden path that would take him through the back gate- small, subdued, painted blue instead of red- he couldn’t see that happy time.

All he saw was his brother waiting for him.

Chouichi was leaning on the gate; he’d likely dismissed the guards, something well within his power despite not being clan heir. He’d probably heard from Hana already.

Chouji almost stopped walking. If he stayed put, if he didn’t cross those final yards, maybe he could keep it at bay just a little longer. Maybe if he turned around and made another loop of Konoha’s wall, he could pretend.

Chouichi watched him and smiled.

Chouji stepped over the official line marking off Akimichi clan land and took a deep breath.

“I'm promoted,” He whispered, and began to cry.

—

It was made official the next day. All the elders were there, Chouza’s sister Chouko, Chouji’s mother Reiko. Grandmother Ai had never seemed so imposing before.

They signed all the paperwork. Chouji was distantly proud that his hands didn’t shake. He sat beside his brother in the armor that was showier than normal (but still perfect for a fight because clans that partied hard fought hard too) and watched his father’s feet as Chouza walked up to them, the bo pole in his hands.

The weapon didn’t look like much, but then neither did the Akimichi.

No doubt that was why the First Hokage had gifted it to Chouga in the first place.

Chouji willed his father to stop walking before Chouichi, foolish as it was, but he knew he didn’t imagine the hesitation.

It was minute. A millisecond, at most.

Still it was there and Chouji felt a kind of vicious vindication before he felt the bo pole touch his shoulder.

He reached up, grabbed it, and stood. The other end of the bo pole was on Chouza’s shoulder. They were two men holding the same burden.

A Wall.

Chouza eased the bo pole off of Chouji’s shoulders and it was done.

What had been tacitly official in the years since the Uchiha Incident was now signed, sealed, stamped and delivered.

Chouji Akimichi would be the Sixteenth Head of the Akimichi Clan.

He hated everyone in the room for it.

—

“You know you keep making a face like that it’ll get stuck.” Chouichi said to him.

Chouji moved over on the porch to let his brother sit down.

“It should have been you,” He said, staring at hands that were still clenched.

“Chouji, things happen.” Chouichi said. “They made the right choice.”

“How do you know?” Chouji demanded, whipping his head around to glare at his brother.

Chouichi shrugged. “Because you care so much more than I do,” He said. “Leaving aside- _everything_ -you have more compassion in you than there are stars in the sky. You’re gonna be a great Clan Head.”

“Picked over a son who has a kekkei genkai even though his father thinks he’’s a coward,” Chouji whispered. “some Clan Head.”

“Hey,” Chouichi said sharply, and whacked his brother lightly on the back of his head. “You are no coward and I know it. Deep down Dad knows it, too.” He leaned on Chouji’s shoulder. “Now I just have to make you believe it.”

“I feel like I stole this from you,” Chouji confessed. “like we all did.”

“Can’t steal something I never really wanted,” Chouichi said. “Hardly anyone's fault I didn't know it until now. Let's go, newest chunin of Clan Akimichi. You’ve got an oath to take and some serious eating to do. The dumpling platters alone are the stuff of legend. Hell there might even be leftovers.”

“Only if Makaro’s not around.” Chouji said. He stood up. “Chouichi?”

“Yeah?” Chouichi asked.

“If it takes me my whole life,” Chouji said, “I’m gonna make this up to you. I swear it.”

“I believe you, little brother.” Chouichi replied. He stood up. “Come on, butterfly.”

He led the future Head of the Akimichi inside as a soft breeze blew, bending grass stalks and causing the chimes in the windows to sound.


	17. Hair Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke is interested in growing his hair out and picks the most logical (Read: least likely to try and kill him) choice for advice. SasukexChouji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original tumblr prompt read "Sasuke grows his hair out so he doesn't have duck butt hair anymore" which seemed reasonable to me.

Chouji has blinked at him for so long Sasuke wonders if he was heard correctly. 

“…so?” 

“Sorry I’m just. Processing.” Chouji unsteeples his fingers from in front of his face and continues, “did you really just ask me for hair tips?” 

Sasuke reminds himself to not get defensive. “You’re the only person our age with long hair.” 

“Hinata.” Chouji says. “Ino.” 

“Both girls.” 

“Hair is gender neutral, Sasuke.” Chouji is kind enough not to mention absent Orochimaru. 

“Both girls who are not likely to speak to me,” Sasuke clarifies. 

“Shikamaru.” 

“Are you kidding?” Sasuke asks flatly. 

Chouji grins at that. “So you chose me because I’m a pushover?” Chouji asks. 

“I chose you because you’re the most likely to be receptive without suspecting me of trying to murder you,” Sasuke points out. 

“I have a whole clan of men with long hair. You could have asked any of them.” 

“I don’t know any of them. I know you.” 

“Good enough.” Chouji sighs. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be. There’s not much to know about growing your hair out.” 

-

The Uchiha compound is, as always, too dark, too depressing, too dusty. 

Chouji isn’t paying attention to any of that. 

“What do you _mean_ you don’t own a comb?” 

Sasuke shrugs. “I never had to do much to it. It just sort of-” he gestures at his head. 

Chouji takes a few calming breaths. “Okay. Okay we’re going to the store.” 

“I don’t go to stores.” 

“Why no- oh. Yeah. Okay we’re still going.” 

“Didn’t I just say-”

“You’re not allowed to become the murder-hermit in the abandoned compound, Sasuke. There are people in this world and you’re going to have to interact with them. Just hide behind me I’m big enough. Let’s go.” 

-

“Why two separate products?” Sasuke asks, staring down the shampoo aisle with mild trepidation. 

“It actually depends a lot on your hair type and what you want out of it,” Chouji explains to him. “Hinata doesn’t wash hers with shampoo more than once a month. She does a vinegar rinse because it’s so thick.” 

Sasuke doesn’t look or sound horrified but his eyes are a little wider as he says, “Vinegar?” 

“Lots to learn, Sasuke,” Chouji tells him, hunting for bottles that repair damage and encourage growth. “Lots to learn.” 

-

“Put down the shuriken.” 

“But-”

“No. If you need your dead ends trimmed you pay someone to do it with the proper damn equipment. Not everyone takes care of their hair like Kakashi.” 

Sasuke frowns at Chouji. “Kakashi doesn’t go to a barber.” 

“No. He cuts it with a kunai. And if he wasn’t Kakashi the Mirror Ninja and currently in charge of the whole place, he would be teased accordingly.” 

“Plenty of jounin cut their hair with-” 

“NO, Sasuke.” 

-

There’s apparently a proper technique to brushing (with a wood brush or comb, Sasuke, the bristles are better than metal or plastic and the longer you use it the better it’s conditioned-) and Chouji demonstrates it. He takes Sasuke's missing arm into consideration and doesn't ask why he hasn't approached Tsunade about a grown replacement like Naruto. 

When it comes time to try it out, Sasuke struggles. Chouji helps with how he holds the comb and moves his arm but he won’t touch Sasuke’s hair. 

“You need to figure it out for yourself,” he says and that’s that. 

-

“Hey, Sasuke?” Sakura asks. It’s one of their sanity checks disguised as lunch meetings, just about wrapping up. “Are you growing your hair out?” 

Sasuke stabs a tomato. “Trying to.” 

“Oh. It looks nice.” 

“Thanks,” he says. Sakura still can’t look directly at him but Naruto can. 

“Tired of the duck butt, teme?” He asks. 

Sasuke finds himself grinning. “It was better than your straw mop, dobe.” 

“HEY!” 

Sakura sighs, Naruto rages, and it could almost be perfect. 

-

There is hair going in all directions like a windmill has had sexual relations with a porcupine and no amount of product or brushing or burning offerings to dead and irate relatives has been able to do a thing about it. 

“This looks stupid,” Sasuke tells Chouji. 

“Yes it does,”Chouji agrees, “but it’s necessary.”

“Or I could just cut it all off.” 

“If you cut it every time you get to the stupid part, you’ll never get your hair long,” Chouji points out. “Mine looked dumb for a solid year.” 

Sasuke looks at him suspiciously. “As dumb as this?” He gestures at the mushroom-effect his hair is having. 

“Dumber,” Chouji tells him. “Remember how it stuck up?” 

Sasuke nods. 

“It just kept sticking up until gravity finally won. I looked like a tree stump someone blasted in half with a lightning jutsu.” Chouji pats Sasuke on the shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll make it through.” A pause. “But don’t go anywhere near Ino right now.” 

Sasuke sighs. 

-

“He hasn’t brushed your hair, has he?” 

It’s such an abrupt question that Sasuke looks up from the other side of the ‘keep the criminal out of our country’ contracts they’ve been contemplating to catch Shikamaru’s gaze on him. It’s narrow and intent. That's enough to put Sasuke on edge. Even now Shikamaru still looks at the world through lazy, half-cocked eyes, as if daring it at large to throw another war at him. A focused Shikamaru is a dangerous Shikamaru. 

“No?” He offers, confused at the question and at the look. 

Shikamaru relaxes. His gaze goes easy and lazy again. “Alright,” he says. 

-

Sasuke thinks about the question. 

He thinks about it as he goes to the barber, as he walks through the more populated parts of the village and endures the stares and whispers. He thinks about it as he negotiates with the Housing office on what parts of the Uchiha compound should be opened up to non-Uchiha tenants. 

He thinks about it as he walks through the Akimichi lands, over a well travelled path to the main house. 

He’s headed for Chouji’s rooms when he sees Chouza sitting in the garden with his wife Reiko. 

She is standing behind him, smiling in the soft springtime sun, and she is brushing his hair. 

Like Chouji’s it’s thick, no doubt teeming with chakra that can turn its edges sharp and deadly in an instant. Very different from the fine strands on Sasuke’s own head. 

When Reiko leans forward to begin her brushing again at the roots near Chouza’s temple, he catches her arm and pulls her forward. She giggles and kisses his forehead. 

Sasuke doesn’t make it to Chouji’s rooms. He shunshins, damn the alarms that will sound in the Hokage’s office, and sits on his porch for hours. 

-

“Remember, water is what moisturizes, oil is what seals,” Chouiji tells Sasuke. “So putting oil on dry hair is completely useless. You- Sasuke are you alright? You seem distracted.” 

Sasuke blinks, pulls his eyes away from the way Chouji sits, the way his large hands so easily manipulate the little bottles he’s brought. “I am,” he confesses. “Sorry.” 

“Happens to the best of us.” Chouji says. “Happens to Naruto once every twenty minutes.” 

Sasuke doesn’t want to laugh but he does. 

-

Sasuke looks at himself in a mirror that belonged to his mother. 

He tugs a little on the ponytail. It’s not very long yet, only three or so inches, but it will grow. 

With all his hair back from his face, he looks like…

“What do I do?” He asks Itachi in the mirror. 

Itachi smiles at him and says nothing. 

Sasuke isn’t sure what he was expecting. 

-

Sasuke has planned it perfectly. He knows Chouji has the day off, knows he’ll be at home in his clan compound instead of out and about helping with this project or that negotiation. Sasuke’s even tracked cloudwatching times so he doesn’t have to deal with Shikamaru and his accusing gazes. 

It’s all going like clockwork right up until Chouji opens his door. 

“Sasuke?” He asks. “I thought you were working with the Hokage toda-” 

“Comb my hair?” 

It comes out so fast Sasuke thinks it was jumbled and as Chouji stares at him he feels his face begin to heat. 

Chouji opens his mouth, closes it. 

He looks just as scared as Sasuke feels. 

“Okay,” he says, almost a whisper, and ushers the other ninja inside. 

-

In the end Sasuke manages a ponytail much longer than Itachi’s. 

It reaches the tip of his tailbone and aside from annual trims it stays that way. It’s never quite as impressive as an Akimichi mane or a Nara toptail but it runs like a black river down his back and Chouji loves to wrap his fingers in it. 

Eventually the Uchiha compound is reduced down to a memorial plaque and a park, dedications on new research buildings and a wing of the hospital dedicated to the mental health of active and retired ninja. The Akimichi butterfly is put against a red and white fan. 

Akimichi Sasuke sits in the sun, empty kimono sleeve neatly pinned, and his husband combs his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this short originally I like...FORGOT that Sasuke had lost an arm?? So there have been edits done here and there to better reflect that. I did not spend a lot of time researching how people with only one arm and no prosthetic do haircare, mostly because I didn't go into that level of detail. 
> 
> I will forever be salty at the indignity that is Chouji's ~~Boruto~~ The Mistake character design. Give him back his hair you cowards.


	18. Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chouji is one of Konoha's foremost diplomats. He's good at his job, and no one wants to know why. Inferred ShikamaruxChouji, ChoujixKarui

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for alcohol abuse and ninja-typical violence.

_Monarch butterflies are poisonous._

_They eat toxic milkweed for all of their juvenile lives, and upon emerging from their chrysalis the poison they have eaten clings to them, to their powdery orange wings and their delicate little black feet._

_Monarch butterflies are very beautiful._

-

When Shikamaru sits down across from Chouji at the fire and says, “You’re late checking in,” Chouji smiles.

“I suppose,” he agrees.

“No suppose about it. Damn it, Chou, you had me worried.”

“And yet here I am,” Chouji says cheerfully. He takes a swig from his water bottle. Between them the fire crackles. “Everything went according to plan.”

“All of it?” Shikamaru asks urgently.

“All of it.”

Chouji offers the water bottle. Shikamaru looks at it and then at him. “Do I want to know how much backwash is in this?”

“It’s mostly full,” Chouji says.

Shikamaru’s grin is lopsided and tired like the shadows that dig deep under his eyes. “Well you haven’t tried to kill me yet, I guess.” He takes the water bottle.

-

_Pipevine swallowtails are poisonous._

_As caterpillars they eat calico flowers, and upon emerging from their chrysalis the poison they have eaten clings to them, to the iridescent blue of their wings, the yellow spots of their long bodies._

_Pipevine swallowtails are beautiful._

-

Shikamaru takes a deep swig, winces. “I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” he tells his best friend. “Too strong for me.”

There’s a sound like a fork being pulled through a partially cooked chicken breast.

“I know,” Chouji says, cradling the back of Shikamaru’s neck, rubbing his thumb gently up and down where the Nara’s hair is so closely cut. Shikamaru’s hands skitter against the plates of of his armored tunic, seeking purchase and finding none. 

Chouji’s other hand doesn’t loosen its grip on the kunai he’s buried in Shikamaru’s gut, dragging slowly up. Shikamaru tries to scream but against Chouji’s chest all sound is muffled. The fire under them licks at Chouji's front but he feels nothing. 

-

_The viceroy is not poisonous._

_It has no defenses, no milkweed. So it wears an orange coat and prays._

_The viceroy is not the monarch._

_but still, it’s very beautiful._

-

The genjutsu releases- must have been an expensive one, to last so long- and the man who is not Shikamaru slumps forward, eyes dark. There’s a deep stain of blood on Chouji’s shirt but against his habitual red it barely shows.

Chouji lets the corpse fall to the side, examines it for a second or two. He crouches and seeks any identifying information- tattoos, jewelry, a certain kind of stitch or type of cloth. He encounters and disarms various traps. The genjutsu was indeed an expensive one, the work of Suna (he'll have to tell Gaara, won't that be a fun meeting) sealed into a little clay tablet.

Useful. Chouji tucks it into a pocket. 

Eventually Chouji finds what he wants. Embedded under the skin of the man’s back scarifications form a map to a place no one’s been able to crack into yet, full of people who think if their village is going to trade with ninja it would be better off burning.

After a good ink rubbing to get the stupid map he’s been wining and dining and negotiating and poisoning for for six months, Chouji does the dead man that courtesy with all haste. One well controlled great fireball and his would be assassin is nothing but crackling. 

Chouji finishes his water bottle before he leaves. It’d be a shame to waste sake that expensive. As an afterthought he says to the ash drifting off in the wind, “You know, you’re good. But Shikamaru doesn’t drink.”

-

_The red-spotted purple is not poisonous._

_It has no defenses, no calico flowers. So it wears a blue dress and prays._

_The red spotted purple is not the pipevine swallowtail._

_Still, it is beautiful._

-

By the time Shikamaru shows up with backup to the fortress hidden in a truly obnoxious cleft in the river walls, there’s not much left to be done.

The remaining rebel leaders are more than willing to talk. Seeing three of your best men torn limb from limb will do that to a person.

“They say you stopped one of their own from rampaging,” Shikamaru tells Chouji.

Chouji nods. “Yeah that’s pretty much it. Guy was on something nasty, Shika. Maybe that stuff that's been filtering in from the Land of Corpses. I don’t know what but for a civilian he was something else.”

“And he was pushed out into the river,” Shikamaru points. The opening of the cleft is only about three feet wide, a sheer drop down to the roaring water below. The stairs Chouji had to traverse to get there in the first place were more hand-holds than anything else. 

“Would you rather I bullet tanked him to a pulp in front of the people we’re trying to convince to like us?” Chouji asks.

Shikamaru says nothing. He knows that if he goes looking, he’s not going to find a body. He knows there was no man.

Shikamaru knows a lot of things, that’s his curse, but what he doesn’t know- that won’t hurt him.

Still for the sake of peace and prosperity he asks, “Chouji, what happened here?”

Chouji continues to eye him placidly. “Diplomacy,” he says, and takes a sip from his water bottle.

Shikamaru snorts and that’s that.

Chouji declines the offer of an immediate transport home. He likes a good long walk, and besides there had been an excellent distillery on the edge of the Land of Wind he’d wanted to drop in on. Good chance to head Gaara off at the pass and let him know someone's selling clay-sealed genjutsus. 

Who knows. Maybe he’ll find a gift for Karui.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have. 
> 
> Feelings.
> 
> Regarding the mess that was Shikamaru Hiden and how Shikamaru and Chouji's relationship has been portrayed (or not) in ~~Boruto~~ The Mistake. I am outraged that a relationship as strong as theirs was disregarded to bring Shikamaru closer to Naruto, something the narrative could have done in Shippuden but failed to do entirely.


End file.
